The Withered Trees of October
by The-Sparkling-Sad-Diamond-87
Summary: Hermione had kept her love a secret, yet he had known. Now after his death, she must learn to cope with the emptiness she feels, while unearthing the secret he left for her to find. ADHG
1. Prologue

I've never written anything like this before. I'm just going to go ahead and warn you that it's AD/HG. This is a first for me, and I'm surprised at myself for attempting to even write this. It's a bit AU and has **HALF-BLOOD PRINCE SPOILERS**. So if you have not read the sixth book I advise you not to read this.

Please review. I love helpful reviews, but I'm not very fond of flames. Constructive criticism helps. Flames hurt. Now with that said, on with the story.

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me.

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The Withered Trees of October  
Prologue

The white tomb rested forlornly on the saddened castle grounds reminding each student of the terrible tragedy that had happened not so long ago. No one could forget the fall, the image of his body broken on the dark grass. The memory haunted the castle, followed the inhabitants. Some students claimed to hear his voice in the dark, long hours of the night.

With his death, the castle seemed to be slowly dying. As if they were connected by some ancient magic, the grounds began to loose their lush colors, trees withering away. The gardens were dying, much to Professor Sprout's dismay, and the usually clear waters of the lake were now a murky brown.

It was a grim scene indeed. One the inhabitants of Hogwarts wished they did not have to witness. The slow decay lowered their spirits, saddened them more than they wanted to admit.

Hermione Granger stood beside the tomb, flowers clutched in her hand, remembering the man that lay inside. Heart aching, she prayed hoping for a miracle, wishing for the Great Wizard to suddenly spring back to life. The Wizarding World has depended greatly upon him, and now, they were lost.

Laying the flowers on the tomb, she stepped back hugging her arms to herself suppressing tears. This was the most horrible feeling she had ever experienced. It felt like there was a gaping hole inside of her, a deep and dark void that could never to filled again.

It shouldn't have affected her this much. She wished she could be completely numb to all feeling. This ache was such torture to her. At night, Hermione tried to fight it, even pretend it wasn't there, yet nothing helped.

Taking in a shaky breath, she exhaled slowly. Her eyes stung from the cold October wind. How unfair this was! Why now?

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned slowly, and with a pang of guilt, saw Professor McGonagall standing behind her looking extremely tired and much older than she had before. The strict professor watched Hermione with sharp eyes seeming to guess why she was there. The thought of her mentor knowing made her cheeks flush.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said slowly trying to smile, but failing.

Professor McGonagall moved toward the tomb, her expression one of deep sadness. "I expected to find you here."

"I know I shouldn't be here, " Hermione began.

"No," McGonagall interrupted. "You have every right to be here. More so than the others I believe…"

Hermione nodded finally allowing a few tears to fall. Brushing them away, she turned her red eyes to the murky lake. She remembered how beautiful the lake had once been, shimmering in the sun on warm summer mornings.

"This is just so…unfair," she said.

"I agree, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall replied. Her tone was grim. "His death came at a terrible time."

"Yes, it did." Hermione sighed letting her eyes rest on the white tomb. "I wish it hadn't ended this way."

"We all wish that," the Professor replied.

Hermione shivered in the cold wind. "I should go back inside."

McGonagall nodded, and smiled slightly at the young witch. "He would not be surprised to find you here, Miss Granger. He had a suspicion all along."

Professor McGonagall turned and strode away leaving Hermione open-mouthed. The clever witch stared after McGonagall's retreating form shocked from her bold comment. After a few moments, Hermione blinked and then walked quickly deciding that it was time to ask a few questions that she had been pondering for a long time.

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Well, there's the beginning. I hope it wasn't too confusing. If it was, please let me know so I can do something about it. The beginning isn't supposed to spell every thing out though. I don't like doing that right away.

Please review! I'd love to hear any ideas you guys have as well. It's always great to hear what other people think.


	2. Chapter 1

Wow! I can't believe it's been three months. I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to update. I'm afraid that other updates will probably take just as long or longer than this one so don't lose hope. I have haven't abandoned the story.

I hope everyone had a great Christmas!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this. I'd resting at my vacation home in Majorca instead.

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The Withered Trees of October  
Chapter One

The emotions running through Hermione as she climbed the marble staircase of the castle were conflicting to say the least. Always being inquisitive, she longed to know the truth about her beloved Headmaster, yet she knew there would be no turning back. The truth was about to be revealed, and the thought scared her. Was she ready for the responsibility attached to the news?

Albus Dumbledore had always been an intriguing and mysterious man. One Hemione had greatly admired growing up. He was the beacon of hope for the Wizarding World, the torch that always shined. He appeared infallible, strong and mighty. Underneath, however, he was just an old man fighting to stay alive.

Hermione had realized this one night at the beginning of her sixth year. A particularly nasty nightmare had led her from the comfort of her four-poster down to the kitchen. The idea was to have a nice cup of tea and then go back to bed, but before she could enter the kitchen, the Headmaster had appeared. Hermione, not sure she was allowed out of bed, quickly ducked into the shadows to observe the Headmaster. Watching him broke her heart.

At that moment, Hermione did not see the great wizard that she knew. Instead she saw an old, dying man holding on to his last days of life. His steps were slow and labored as if each movement caused him great pain. His shoulders were stooped, and he held a shaky arm to the wall for balance.

From the shadows, Hermione watched holding back tears. The start of term feast had raised questions about the health of the Headmaster, but she had never imagined it was this terrible. He was practically withering away right in front of her eyes. With a sigh, she moved out of the shadows wanting to help. As she moved toward him, the flickering candlelight caught on his blackened hand, and she cringed. Something told her the dead hand was the cause of his failing health.

"Um…Professor Dumbledore," she said, "let me help you."

The sentence sounded so odd to her. Professor Dumbledore did not need help. He helped others.

"Miss Granger," he replied. "I thought I saw you slink into the shadows."

He did not seem startled by her appearance in the least. In fact, he seemed almost happy to see her.

"I know I shouldn't be wandering around the castle," she said.

"No, you should not. Yet, I, too, find it hard to sleep once my pleasant dreams have been disturbed."

He turned to her with a kind smile on his wrinkled face. Piercing blue eyes searched her brown ones for a moment, and then he sighed heavily. Reaching up to tickle the pear in the portrait, he motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen.

Once they passed through the entrance, a dozen or so house elves met them. Squeaky voices begged to serve them, and the two found themselves seated at one of the wooden tables with a steaming pot of tea in front of them. Hermione, being tried and worried about the Headmaster, had not even tried to persuade the elves to freedom.

For a while, the two sat in silence drinking their tea. The change that had come over Professor Dumbledore after he saw Hermione was amazing. Once again, he was the strong Headmaster of Hogwarts. But she knew he was only pretending.

"You're sick," Hermione said. It was not a question, but rather a statement. "Headmaster, you've been hiding it from us."

He did not respond. Instead, he took a sip of his tea avoiding Hermione's gaze. A sigh escaped her lips as she waited for a response, but no answer was given.

"Headmaster," she said with concern, "I don't mean to…I don't mean to question your judgment or your decisions, but I have to know why you've kept your illness from Harry."

"Harry does not need to know," he replied.

Hermione nodded and took a sip of her tea. A moment passed between them before she looked up. A voice in her head told her to stay quiet and let the old man have his peace, but she couldn't. She had to know what had happened this summer. She needed to know why his health was failing so quickly.

"This has something to do with Voldemort." She shivered at the name. "Something that happened this summer."

"Correct as usual, Miss Granger," he replied with the ghost of a smile. "Yes, I have discovered some very valuable information. Information that I shall pass on to Harry in due time."

Hermione nodded. "Harry's lessons, then? They'll be about destroying Voldemort. Some forgotten spells…ancient magic."

"Yes and no," he said. "The lessons will help Harry defeat Lord Voldemort. I have no doubt."

"What is the no?" she asked.

"I cannot tell you, Miss Granger. Only Harry will know that."

Hermione took another sip of her tea. She felt ashamed for prying into information that didn't concern her. Putting down her teacup, she once again looked at the Headmaster. She was surprised to find him watching her, studying her even.

"It is late," he said. "I believe it is time for the both of us to go back to bed."

Hermione nodded and rose from her spot at the table. "I have one last question, Professor."

"I'm all ears," he said.

"You're hand," she said. "It's the reason you're sick."

"I believe that was a statement and not a question. However, Miss Granger, you are once again correct, and I must tell you that no one else need know that tidbit of information."

She once again nodded and started toward the exit. Halfway across the kitchen, she paused and turned. The Headmaster looked up expectantly at her.

"Professor Dumbledore, would you like me to help you…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes met his. She already knew the answer.

"A kind offer, Miss Granger," he said and turned back to his tea.

Now as Hermione walked down the empty corridors that night seemed years ago. It was the first time she had seen the great protector so vulnerable, and it had scared her. Even in his sick state, she had never imagined he would ever leave her though. Without his presence, it made her feel so weak, and she didn't like to feel weak. Always, always she needed to be in control, yet this was a situation where she could not be.

"How did I ever let it get this far?" she questioned.

Her voice echoed down the stone corridor as she walked. Over and over she heard her question repeated until she couldn't stand hearing it any longer. She had never meant to develop any feelings for the old man other than those of friendship. Yet somehow the other feelings had crept into her heart, and she had not fought them. _This is not the time, _she thought.

After turning a few more corners, she finally came to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. _Professor McGonagall's office now,_ she told herself. With a sigh, she realized she did not know the password, but the gargoyle leapt aside as if expecting her. She nodded and passed the gargoyle coming to stand on the moving staircase. After a few moments, she was standing in front of the heavy wooden door that led into the office. She knocked.

"Come in, Miss Granger," the voice of McGonagall replied.

_I was expected. _Hermione pushed the door open and entered the office.

"Please have a seat," Professor McGonagall said motioning to a chair.

As Hermione walked to a chair, she noticed the changes in the office. Most of the curious objects that once littered the room were gone and had been replaced by McGonagall's possessions. Only one table remained with the puffing, whirring things of Dumbledore. Her tribute to the man no doubt.

"I couldn't bare to part with everything," McGonagall said.

Hermione nodded and took a seat taking careful care not to look at any of the portraits on the wall. To see Dumbledore's portrait would be too painful for her even if it were only an imprint of the man.

"So, Professor, what's going on?" Hermione asked.

The aging woman gave Hermione a sad smile and adjusted the glasses on her nose. "We have much to discuss, Miss Granger. I suggest you make yourself comfortable."

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So there's chapter one. I hope you guys liked it. I have to say I was amazed at how many reviews I got for the prologue. You guys are awesome! Thanks so much! 


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